#this is so far past normal speaking speed this bitch is talking like a machine gun

[evidently-endless]

watching stand-up comedy in a language you’re not fluent in is some of the stupidest you will ever feel

[prettyflyshyguy]

Teehee what if I was to drop most of the C Virus AU Fanfic CH3 right now at 12:28AM... Unless.

Unedited/draft Ch1, Ch2 first half, Ch2 second half, for your perusal, and here’s a very unedited first chunk of CH3 that isn’t quite finished because I have work tomorrow but it involves interaction with Ada and I’m sitting here all :)))))))))) while writing so I hope you enjoy!

Perched atop a building, he scanned the area below. As he was making his way towards the area where Simmons should be, he had heard gunfire. Despite his grizzly appearance, if someone was in trouble he could still find a way to help, surely. A street facing door was suddenly kicked open and a figure stumbled out, with a crossbow of all things in their hands. 

‘No. Way.’ he thought as he carefully descended from the roof, wanting to get a clearer look. 

The survivor fired a shot at something inside the building, before ducking back. A small explosion occurred and a BOW, screaming and flailing stumbled out. It was more grotesque than the other C-Virus monstrosities he’d seen so far, and it looked like it had a chainsaw for an arm. It screamed in agony while the survivor readied another shot. Carefully maneuvering himself behind some rubble, the light from another small explosion from the crossbow’s bolt illuminated the survivors face for a brief moment, fully confirming his suspicions. 

It was Ada, for sure. At least he thought so. She was wearing the same clothes as when he and Helena saw her in the catacombs. The mystery was still there however; which one was the real Ada Wong? Was there even a singular one? Was she just switching outfits and motives in some twisted game?

Flicking a glance back in her direction, she was staring down at the body of the BOW lying smoking on the floor, inert. He shuffled, ever so carefully, avoiding making any noise so he could tactically reposition to try and make contact. He stiffened as he felt the vibration of rubble shift under his foot, a small amount of dirt and rocks crumbling. 

“Now what do we have here.”

Hoping if he kept still enough, she’d think no one was there, he held his breath. His heart rate increased as he heard the soft clack of her boots on the concrete approaching at a gentle pace, a bolt being loaded. No time to think.

Placing his hands on the ground, crouching back, he launched himself over the rubble, ignoring the sound of a bolt  whizzing just past his ear. Spotting a broken window one floor up a building, he leapt into it and backed up against the wall panting, just as another bolt narrowly missed its mark.

“Honey I didn’t have the time to deal with this overly enthusiastic fellow,”

He heard the sound of another bolt being loaded.

“So how about you help a girl out and make this quick and easy for both of us.”

The ‘thwip’ of a bolt pierced the air and one landed on the other side of the room. It bounced off the wall, fell to the floor and rolled slowly towards him. The head of the bolt looked large and blunt and had a small blinking red LED. He didn’t need to guess what it meant as the rate increased, and the bolt exploded in a flash of light and smoke. 

Ada stared at the cloud billowing out of the window, preparing another round for good measure. Her eyes narrowed as a few seconds passed, with no movement. She raised her weapon and aimed at where the window was, but it was barely visible now as the smoke had spread. 

Suddenly the creature leapt through the smoke with frightening speed, grabbing her arm and pushing it away as she shot the loaded bolt in a random direction. It ripped the crossbow out of her arm and backed up as she spun around to face it, reaching for her holster. 

Feeling nothing, her eyes widened as she noticed it was holding her handgun and crossbow. It tossed the bow aside gently, and with elegance she’d never seen from a BOW removed the magazine from the gun and dropped both parts either side of it. It maintained eye contact with her the entire time, its eyes were piercing and displayed a terrifying degree of human intelligence.

Covering up the fear in her head, she smiled.

“I can’t say I’ve ever met a man who’s tried this hard to get my attention.”

She started to pace slowly around as she drew a knife from her belt, the creature mimicked her pace as they circled. 

It began to raise its arms, she dove in with the knife and test jabbed to check its reflexes. It was fast, faster than her. 

Her expression turned stern. It backed up a few paces, eyes focused on her as she furiously walked closer brandishing the knife.

“I’m a very, busy, woman.” she grunted while slashing. “And I don’t, have the time, for stalkers.”

Whatever the hell she was dealing with, it clearly knew the basics of CQC. Dancing and ducking around her every swing and jab, although it made no attempt to hit her back. Suddenly its eyes flicked to something behind her, a distraction and an opening. She thrusted the knife forward but something grabbed her by the ankle and almost toppled her, one hand slamming into the ground, the other with the knife at the ready. Flicking her head to the source, the charred and burnt BOW with the chainsaw arm simply refused to die, it and had a vice grip around her right ankle. The sound of bone and flesh grinding louder and louder as it lifted its twisted machination of a chainsaw arm up as the teeth and bone started spinning again. 

She looked back to the creature in front of her only to find it gone, suddenly turning back to the one grabbing her ankle, her eyes widened as she saw the second creature holding the chainsaw-arm back, with one foot on the BOW’s back. The charred living corpse let out a chilling howl as the creature pinning it down pulled its arm further back, dislocating the mutated tendons and bone, ripping muscle. The bone-tooth blade stopped spinning and the vice grip loosened. Ada sprung back up and turned around to face the creature that by all intends, spared her. It was panting while staring at the charred corpse, seemingly ensuring it was truly dead this time. She took the opportunity and sprung towards it, holding the knife in both hands.

At almost the last second before the knife hit its chest it flung one arm up to push hers back, and grabbed one of her wrists with its other, stopping her completely in her tracks. She grimaced and stared up at its face, meeting its eyes. There was almost a pleading look to them. Its grip on her wrist was firm, but not painful, she kept the knife pointed at its chest but shifted her weight so not as much force was pushing her into its arms. Despite the overcast sky, a small break in the clouds shifted and moonlight illuminated the scene and the creature's face. That’s when she noticed its unmistakable hair, the soft blue eyes. The fact it didn’t even lay a scratch on her. 

“...Leon?”

His face softened and the concern was replaced with the beginnings of a warm smile, he loosened his grip on her arms and started to relax-

Her knee struck his stomach with frightening force, he stumbled back with a grunt.

“That’s for almost breaking my crossbow.”

He smiled slightly as he cocked his head to one side, probably deserved that. He gently collected her sidearm and magazine, grateful to find out despite his hands shifting he was still able to comfortably reload the gun with ease. She collected her crossbow, a pleased smile graced her face as she examined it and found it was not damaged.

“So, cat got your tongue?” her playful tone hid a mixture of contradicting emotions. 

She turned back to Leon who had a hand extended, holding her sidearm out. Taking it back, she took a moment to actually look at him. He always ‘stood tall’ around her, she noted he was even taller now and actually towered over her with an air of confidence after managing to disarm her so carefully. It was hard to maintain a certain level of composure, he had hardly changed and the thought was warm but looking at what had happened was painful. His eyes were exactly the same but she could barely return his gaze without her composure breaking. 

He shuffled slightly, then opened his mouth. Hoping something normal sounding would come out. 

“Aa…” 

The more he tried to force it, the more it hurt his throat. His shoulders shrunk inwards slightly as he turned his head to face away from her, the embarrassment and shame of the situation returning. He didn’t want to face her like this, he was regretting even trying to talk to h-

“Did Simmons do this?”

Giving up the vocal option, he shook his head. He shifted towards a wall, leaning comfortably facing her, with a flick of the wrist he pointed a finger briefly towards her, then folded his arms.

“... It was the bitch in the blue dress, wasn’t it.”

He tilted his head to one side slightly, his expression stern. 

“After everything I’ve seen, it’d be pretty cold of me to just say ‘it’s complicated’ don’t you think?” she joked with a forced smile.

No one was laughing. Leon had a very high level of tolerance for her usual manner of speaking, cryptic and tangential, not today however. His entire life changed the day they met in Racoon City but this blows that experience well out of the water.

“I don’t know who she is, but Simmons made her using the C-Virus. Starting off as a bootleg version of me but it seems like she’s got big plans of her own now.”

His stare was piercing. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His face softened as he raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Simmons became… A little too attached to me. I wasn’t interested in playing by his rules, let’s just say he took it a little personally when I didn’t reciprocate his feelings.”

She paced around the courtyard as she spoke.

“I don’t know how he did it, but his obsession resulted in him using the C-Virus to create a very imperfect clone of me. A bootleg Ada Wong if you will.”

Leon snorted in amusement, but he maintained his stance. Closely watching as she stood still and looked back at him.

“I’m not working for Simmons. We’re on the same side, I promise.”

Then who do you work for?

The question echoed in his mind. The one time Ada talks with him at length, he can barely say her name. He looked away, frustrated and ashamed of the circumstance. Hearing her walk closer he turned slightly only to feel the warmth of her hand brush up against his cheek, his eyes flicking towards it and back to her as they widened slightly. His arms fell to his side as her other hand gently rested on his arm. Despite the transformation he still felt the temperature of his face increase, not expecting anyone he knew would even be able to accept what happened to him and be so gentle, especially not Ada. 

“I came here to clean up the mess Simmons started but now… Now it’s personal.”

[sf-brodyjackson-blog]

Run, boy, run! Run for your life. You’ve got the devil on your trail. 

Brody was zooming down the freeway in the direction of San Francisco. Like a heroin addict strung out, he frantically kept looking in the rear view mirror, looking to see if the Cruz siblings were after him. Yet again, he had stayed in a city far too long. Yet again, he had been distracted by his connections. Harlow had barely been there a day before she left. He should have fled the city then. Before “running into Reyna.” It was becoming a common occurrence of theirs. A chance meeting with the same girl in two different motels? Brody should have realized that the girl was lying about who she was. But he didn’t put two and two together. He thought she was honest. He thought he had actually found a friend. Angrily, Brody slammed his hand on the steering wheel, swearing incessantly. “Stupid, stupid,” he growled at himself. He pulled his phone from his pocket and thumbed the girl’s number yet again. He had to go further this time. He knew this now. He had to leave California. Maybe for good. No answer. Again. Three times now. He looked at the glowing screen of his phone. His eyes were burning from lack of sleep, but that didn’t slow the speed of the vintage Camaro, it only increased his will to hurry to his destination. “Damn it, babe,” he muttered to himself tiredly, frustrated with her refusal to answer. Maybe she had lost her phone. Again. But mostly, he was frustrated with himself. Frustrated that he had let Reyna in. They had a chance meeting back in San Francisco at a rundown, cheap ass motel. Or so he thought. Brody was coming home late one night from a grocery run. With his paranoia, the man rarely took on the daylight. He clung to the night, leaving his room late into the night hours. He’d visit 24 hour markets and buy imperishable supplies that could be housed outside the refrigerator. He lived on junk food, Ramen noodles, canned goods. The sort of stuff that was filled with sugar and sodium. But with his lifestyle, it was the easiest thing for him to grab. Thankfully, he almost always managed to snag motels with a pathetic excuse for a complimentary breakfast that’s normal time ran from 6am-8am. He’d be the first one to scurry off to the designated location. Huddled in a corner of the lounge to eat his breakfast before vanishing back to his room. And this was his life. He went from city to city, huddling in corners to eat breakfast before hiding away in his motel room for the day like a vampire. His outings at night were scarce too, but they did happen from time to time. Like the night he met Reyna. Brody hadn’t been in San Francisco long, just a few days before meeting her. He had been pulled back by the news of his childhood best friend’s father’s death. The plan was to contact West immediately, to try and apologize. For the past maybe? To tell his friend how sorry he was for the lost of his father. But he couldn’t. Something stopped Brody. Fear. Fear of rejection. Their last reunion which had happened a little over a year before this tragedy had not gone according to plan. Brody had met that reunion with his normal banter of sarcasm and indifference. Hoping desperately that somehow the past would magically be erased. There was no way he would ever regret his relationship with Catherine who happened to be West’s mom, but he hated the fact that he had betrayed his best friend, that he had destroyed him through that act. But the guilt that Brody felt was something that he had bottled up inside for so long. Since fleeing the city when West learned of what his friend was doing with his mother behind closed doors, Brody just kept running and never looked back. Until a year ago when he came waltzing into St. Regis with his arrogant smile on his face, hoping that somehow the past could just be the past. But it couldn’t. And he fled yet again. Which was always the plan, of course. He was on the run after all. And then his father died and Brody’s heart ached for his friend. The need to reach out to him was burning a hole in him, so stupidly, he began the journey back to the city only to avoid West. He reconnected with Harlow and Fallon, but not his best friend, who he had come to see in the first place. He tried to find the courage to see him, but maybe he was a coward. Maybe he was still that frightened child who had stayed frozen on the couch a few moments too long before finally getting up to fetch his dad. Brody always wondered if those few seconds would have made the difference in whether his father would have lived or not. So maybe this was why he avoided West when he came back into the city, why he couldn’t find it in him to attend the services, why he couldn’t even send a message via Harlow who offered, why he couldn't even fucking congratulate him on the coming birth of his first child. Because what could be said to his friend who he was avoiding? Brody slammed his phone down against the red interior of the Camaro as he thought about the pile of mistakes he had made since arriving to San Francisco less than three weeks ago. The sole purpose for his visit hadn’t even been fulfilled. West had no idea he was in town or that he missed him or was sorry for his lost or how proud he was that he was becoming a dad. And somehow, he had come face to face with a Spanish serpent with a smile that shined brighter than the sun who was now following him. Brody tightened his grip on the steering wheel and changed lanes, looking in the mirror again. No lights. Good. No one was following him… yet. The memory of their meeting slowly played through his mind as he continued to flee Santa Monica in the stolen car. Brody had been carrying two paper bags filled with groceries. It was late, the office attendant would “be back in fifteen minutes” all night. A lazy ass getting paid to sleep in the back office. He started up the staircase to the second floor. Brody never took a ground level room. “Too exposed,” he said. He always felt like someone could be on top of him in a minute if they wanted to. At least on the second floor, if a scuffle happened, he had a chance to get away. He had barely started around the walkway before he saw her standing near the ice machine with a pail in hand. She laughed shyly at him and waved the pail lifelessly. “I locked myself out of my room,” she explained, her golden eyes seemed to shimmer under the lightening. “Do you know when the office attendant will be back? It’s been an hour now.” Brody had laughed casually, shaking his head as he fumbled with his key card. He disappeared into his room to dispose of the groceries before reemerging. “Yeah, Fred does that. He’ll put the sign out right after his shift starts and then he won’t come back from that break until right before it ends. There’s a number in the window listed in case of emergencies, but it doesn’t look promising.” Brody looked at the girl and then down the corridor. It was late. “Are you alone?” he questioned her and she explained that her brother was with her but out for the moment. And so Brody agreed to let her wait in his room. And the pair spent the night playing old school Nintendo, eating junk food, and swamping horrendous motel stories. Brody enjoyed her company. For the first time, it felt like he had a friend that could understand “life on the run” in a manner of speaking. The sort of life you didn’t talk about.   “Lying bitch,” he growled as he thought about her ruse to get close to him. The damsel in distress act. And he fell for it. His anger caused him to exceed the speed limit to dangerous limits, but he didn’t care. He was irate. He pushed the old car as fast as it would go. This was not how he had envisioned his evening. Brody had stumbled into Reyna on the beach in Santa Monica yesterday evening. He was slightly taken off guard at the slim chance of seeing the girl twice in less than a month, especially being that it was nearly a four hundred mile difference. And then Reyna informed him that she was staying at the Pavilions Motel, same as he, and there was a slight tug in his subconscious. But there was a likable quality about the girl, something that made it so easy to talk to her, to trade “war stories” about being on the road. So, he ignored that tugging in the pit of his stomach, he ignored the bile that was rising in his throat, he ignored the chill that was gripping the back of his neck in the warmth of the sun. He ignored it all and took her out for a quick dinner before telling her goodnight. His nerves only escalated when he learned that Reyna’s room was directly beside his. He waved at her before hurrying inside his room. Quickly, he locked his door, breathing heavily. Now he knew something was off. This was too many coincidences. Brody was inwardly kicking his ass as his eyes drifted towards the door on the other side of the room. Naturally, he would choose an old motel that still had the adjacent doors that led from one room into the other. Tiptoeing across the floor, as quietly as possible, the man unlocked the door and twisted it, pulling it open. Only Reyna’s door parted them. His heart was pounding wildly against his chest, echoing in his ears. He listened intently to the sounds coming from the room. It was silent. Was she perched against the other side of the door like him? The very thought of this sent the man recoiling, especially being that at dinner the girl had revealed her obsession with knives to him. He locked his door and carried the chair from the table to pin it underneath it. Brody was exhausted and knew that he wouldn’t be able to get far on no sleep. And clearly this girl was a tracker, more than likely sent for him to deliver him to the cartel for the blunder in Miami that he had been running from. He knew he needed sleep or else he was a dead man walking. Brody fully dressed himself, shoes included; he set his bag at the foot of the bed and tucked away his gun beneath his pillow… just in case. And slowly, he fell into a light sleep. Brody jumped in his sleep. A rattling noise had woken him. Had he even been asleep? It felt like only a few moments had passed by. He looked at the clock. It was nearly 1 AM. He had gotten a few hours of sleep. He sat up in the darkness, listening to the noise that continued. “What the fuck is that?” he whispered to himself, unsure if there was a rat in the room. And suddenly, he realized what it was. It was the sound of the door knob. The tumblers were being manipulated. His heart was suddenly pumping in overdrive. He grabbed his gun and crawled off the bed, aiming it for the joined doors that he shared with Reyna, waiting for her intrusion. By now, his eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The lightning from the bathroom shone enough into the room to show that the knob wasn’t being touched from her side. Heart sinking, he turned towards the front door and saw the twisting of the knob. “Oh, fuck!” he hissed, grabbing his bag and kicked the chair away from the other door. He swung it open and then twisted Reyna’s door knob. Locked. He slammed his boot against the wooden barrier. The thin door gave way immediately and he was in her room. He shut his door, hers was too broken to worry with. Reyna jumped up in bed, a knife in hand. Brody raised his gun at her. “Who the fuck is breaking into my room?” he shouted. Reyna looked confused for a moment. Brody had lost all patience for this game. “I know you’re following me and now someone is breaking into my room!” Reyna jumped off the bed and headed into the abandoned room; standing by the doorway, Brody listened as an argument broke out between Reyna and Tre, the one she always called her brother. “What are you doing here?” Brody heard Reyna asking the guy he assumed to be her brother. “I think the better question is what the fuck are you doing here? I’m doing our job,” the guy responded. Brody pulled himself off the side of the wall, rolling his eyes. “Oh, you sound like an asshole,” Brody muttered to himself in regards to this Tre guy who he had only scarcely heard about from Reyna in passing. As Reyna scorned her brother for following her, Brody distracted himself with scoping out Reyna’s stash. Naturally, this was the time for him to get away, but it seemed like the only time he was going to get any information about the pair if they stopped bickering long enough to delve into actual information he needed. Brody shook his head when Reyna questioned her brother about trusting her. “No, he doesn’t, Rey,” Brody answered in a hushed voice. “It’s why he fucking followed you. Ooh, nice knife.” The man pocketed the exquisite piece. Why not? Reyna was a liar. 

Tre was on something about of loyalty. Brody was halfway through the girl’s duffel bag when he felt leather. He assumed it was the sheath of another blade. He pulled and was surprised to find himself looking at a leather bound book. He opened the book and saw his name half a dozen times on one page. “And you’re going home with me,” he said, putting the book inside his jacket’s inside pocket. Suddenly, Tre’s voice grew louder and he could hear things being thrown. There was glass shattering. He was sure that someone had broken the lamp. Maybe even the television. Brody stood up and walked back to the doorway to listen. “Are you fucking our mark?” Tre growled in an accusatory voice at his sister, who quickly brushed it off asking what it was to him. Tre said something about it being his business when it involved their target. Brody gripped his gun more tightly. Mark? Target? His stomach was reeling. His paranoia wasn’t paranoia at all. They had come to collect him. To take him back to the cartel. To bring him back to receive his punishment. To receive his death. Brody swallowed the bile that coated the cavern of his mouth. “Fuck you, Reyna,” he whispered dryly before storming out of the girl’s room. Quietly, he slipped down the staircase and headed into the parking lot. He recognized the Camaro. From San Francisco. The morning he fled the motel. It had to be Tre’s. And stupidly, the man had left it running. He was expecting a quick hit and run. Brody threw his bag into the back seat and climbed into the driver’s seat, hauling ass out of there. The tires squealed violently against the assault of his rage and fear. Burning eyes, Brody rolled the window down to let the coldness of the morning air wake him up. “Stay awake,” he said to himself, smacking his cheek. He was exhausted, but he had to see her. Had to say goodbye in person. Forty-five minutes and he’d be at the gallery. He pushed further against the gas pedal, letting the engine rev. Again, he checked the mirror, constantly checking to see if lights were following him. And when someone was on his tail, he would weave between lanes to see if they followed suit. No one did. This was a good sign? Maybe he had time to say goodbye. After ditching the Camaro, Brody ran two blocks before catching a bus. It took him most of the way to Harlow’s and then the man was tasked with making the last eight block journey on his own. As soon as he reached her door, he knocked at the wooden barrier several times before remembering that the girl never locked the door. He reached for the knob and twisted. Once he pushed it open, he poked his head in and shouted her name, “Harlow, it’s Brody.” He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Harlow?!” he called out for her. He wasn’t sure how long he had. He wasn't sure how much of a head start he had before the Cruz siblings would be hunting him down like a rabid animal. He just wanted to say goodbye to Harlow in person. And finally, maybe he had the courage to at least give West a message either through Harlow or a voicemail. He needed to say goodbye to West too. Just in case he vanished without a trace forever.